Month: June 2016

July 1st, July 4th the birth of independence. Declaration of the insurrection from the destitution produced by oppressive governed opacity designed to obscure and sedate the masses to bend to the will of the wealthy and the wreathed. Impaled by the branches of modesty, dethroned from the majesty to abolishe and destitute to an eternity of mediocracy. Give us freedom or terminus…Or so by theory?

Canada: July 1st, 1867

However It may be a surprise to Canadians that we are still considered a Monarch ruled country paying homage to the commonwealth (Queen of England). Canada Constitutional monarchy Ceremonial Ministry is subject to parliamentary confidence. You may think it means nothing, but the people with real power in Canada (1 percenters) take the monarchy reign very seriously. Thus what does that mean to our independence day? It means it was trans versed into a “fop day“, in other words “Canada Day“.

United States: July 4th, 1776

United States, as it appears has gained their independence and has no known ties to monarchy. Their political system on the exterior appears to have equality as a priority, however anyone that lives there knows the difference. Especially people in densely populated urban areas. Capitalism reigns deeply in this country and has created a series of “mini monarchies” fueled by commercialism whereby they have successfully in the most part wiped out the small business and independent communities and have enslaved these communities with commercialized corporations and franchised conglomerations. Thus the 1 percenters creating another “fop day” holiday being mesmerized fireworks and covet level commercialized entertainment, possessions and alcoholic fueled activities.

July 1st, Canada day, and July 4th, Independence day this year had a familiar yet new feeling with it’s accompanying mesmerizing luster. The new feeling I was feeling was hard to describe. I felt all excited and thought, wow, long weekend, time to party. But I also had a sense of sadness and remorse as I watched men and women run in and out of the liquor store, buying cases of hard liquor, filling their carts with more booze then they could possibly consume unless they were going to spend the next week or so on a alcoholic bender. Cases of six, 26 ounce/40 ounce bottles of hard liquor. Men, women all consorting and calculating the maximum they can spend, getting the most alcohol they can carry and afford so they can remain inebriated during the course of the long weekend. The new feeling I received was sincere repose. Why would I spend my hard earned cash on overpriced social lubricant? Why would I run the the liquor store after work in the first place as this phoney “fop” day holiday commenced? I stopped myself dead in my tracks, bought a four pack of small bottles of Clamato Caesars and went home and I am sure I was subliminally conned into buying that product. I mean really all you need is a micky of vodka and a can of tomato juice.

Liquid Chains of Oppression-holic

My previous marriage was shattered by my spouse’s alcoholism. I despise commercialism because she was brainwashed to think she needed to drink like that. But once the physical need sets in, mission accomplished. Commercial brainwashing was successful in creating another alcoholic junky, feeding the 1 percenters pockets, whilst destroying her health, looks and life in general. How strong is this brainwashing? Just asked anyone that has joined Al-Anon. You will hear tale after tale of alcoholic destructiveness. Al-Anon deals with the person involved with the alcoholic. The person that attempts to stop the alcoholic from destroying themselves. This person that attempts to assist their spouse or family member(s) from this destructive substance usually ends up alone. That is how strong alcoholic brainwashing is to battle. It isolates the people strong enough not to be brainwashed into becoming another “alcoholic abusing fop”. Clever. Isolate the ones that reject brainwashing, ultimately brainwashing them back in control out shear loneliness.

You are Getting Sleepier and Sleepier. Now, Act Like a “fop”

Thus, the new emotion that came over me with the sincere repose was loneliness. A loneliness created for rejecting the brainwashing and commercial bull dung. The more you reject the brainwashing, the more lonely you will become, because people that are brainwashed will have a harder time dealing with you thus will not communicate with you as much, if at all. Not because you cannot communicate with them. It is because your communication is cajoled to higher level that they cannot understand that contradicts everything that they have been brainwashed to believe is correct. So they immediately get glimpses of the phoney one-sided thin surfaces of commercial folly and fable, and cannot handle the reality, thus will run for cover, going home to watch their favorite brainwashing TV “fop” series, with a cold beer or drink to feel right again. Anyone in my shoes knows exactly what I am talking about. That is how the isolation starts and continues. Do not think for one second that the 1 percenters who brew up this brainwashing serum do not know this side effect of brainwashing rejection. Thus if you are not strong, you will be sucked right back into the brain-shrinking vacuum.

Pop Stars of the “fop” Relented

Slavery is conceptual in most cases. These chains can be released voluntarily. We bind ourselves to these chains because of comfort. It is comfortable to have others make decisions for you, control your country, take care of the financial affairs of our communities. Tell you what to do, eat, drink, wear, who to marry, who to divorce, how to walk, talk, what to think, when to think, and when to be a total “fop”. But when the nation or community is in jeopardy, who do you think will have to fight and die to defend it? The 1 percenters? No, it will be you, male or female. Why? because you are the “fop” of society that is stupid (brainwashed) enough to protect what is not really yours in the first place. Because in most cases, you will never pay it off anyway, so have another drink, and watch another episode of the big bang theory and feel right again.

How can I be such a callous prick and say these things? Because I too once had these chains on me. I too have danced the “fop” dance. And, everyday I have to fight mentally to keep this river of swill not to enter my brain again.

“Lets get out of here. We need to eat soon. We need some money. I was reading this newspaper, hopefully recent and it has an address for work. Adult actresses needed. Will pay $50.00 guaranteed for an audition. Terms and modelling contracts apply.” said Sara, reading the ad to Marsha and Mary. “What about our dolls? I want to keep mine and bring it back when we go!” said Mary. “Yeah, me too!” said Marsha. “Well, I hate to break it to you both but I think we may be stuck here unless we can find that Geary guy to get us back. May be this is just a dream and we will awake any moment? Either way, I am hungry and we need some coin. In the mean time we can hide our dolls behind this panel. Judging from the amount of dust, no one goes back here. They will be safe until we come back.” said Sara as she looked behind the panel after pulling miscellaneous lumber away. Quickly, they carefully stacked the dolls in the back of the panel and placed the lumber back to camouflage the dolls. “Sara, how will we get back in this place? The doors will most likely lock when we leave or someone who works here will lock up.” asked Marsha placing the last piece of lumber. “I found some keys here hanging behind this panel. Most likely spares. We will find the door the keys open and leave from there.” explained Sara pocketing the keys in her vest. “Where are we anyway? We do not have a clue where we are Sara.” said Marsha looking nervous. “According to the newspaper, we are in Los Angeles. I know my way around. According to the address on this brochure, we are not far from downtown where that agency is located.” said Sara confidently.

Walking to different doors in the plant that seemed to totally unmanned, they found the exit door that the keys opened. “Ok, this is the door we have to come back into when we return. We will mark it with some lipstick. Give your lipstick Marsha.” commanded Sara. “No way, use your own!” said Marsha. “I left mine somewhere in time. Gimme now.” commanded Sara. Marsha reluctantly gave Sara here lipstick. Sara drew a peace symbol above the door knob. “Ok lets boogie.” commanded Sara as they all walked towards the nearest street. After walking for a few hours, they finally found the address. “Come on girls, $150.00 dollars is waiting for us and I am starved.” said Sara leading the way inside the seedy production company’s reception area. As they all entered the waiting area, they seen an array of different women, mostly very young. “Jesus Sara, all these girls look too young to be here. You did say adult auditions did you not?” asked Mary looking around confused. “Yeah Sara, these girls are just babies.” said Marsha applying some lipstick. “It is a production company. They probably make different types of films that they need kids for I guess.” said Sara leading the way to the reception desk. “Hello uh, girls. Are you here to audition?” asked the receptionist looking over their cloths. The receptionist had blond, purple and pink hair with half her head shaved and several pierced earrings in her nose, ears, lips and forehead. “Yes, thank you. We are all here to audition, $50.00 dollars a piece guaranteed right?” said Sara showing the ad. “That is correct. But you will all need to sign this modelling waiver. If you like, you can all audition together.” said the receptionist handing Sara 3 copies of the modelling waiver. Sara grabbed the copies and read the contract. A few minutes later, Sara signed her copy. “Ok girls, sign the forms.” said Sara handing Marsha and Mary their copies. After they signed, Sara handed the copies to the receptionist.

“All right, give us our $50.00 each.” demanded Sara. “You have to audition first. Then we pay you the money.” said the receptionist firmly. “I am afraid not! The waiver clearly states that upon signing this agreement, $50.00 is to be paid to the model immediately before the audition session. So pay up sweetie!” demanded Sara. “I am afraid that is not what the contract means. It means after the session.” reaffirmed the receptionist. “What is your name honey?” asked Sara to the receptionist. “Taylor.” answered the receptionist. “Well Taylor, you get your entertainment lawyer here immediately to show me how that clause means later. Or I will go outside and bring in a cop to read it for you!” said Sara in a serious tone. “Just one moment. I will get the producer.” said Taylor. “Thanks hon.” said Sara. “It smells bad in here! Can we go?” said Marsha with a disgusted look in her face. “Please Marsha, stop being a snobby impotency inducer for five minutes.” said Sara reading the different signs and literature scattered about on Taylor’s desk. Mary was sitting by a man and talking. “So you are a adult actor too? What roles do you play?” asked Mary naïvely. “There is really only one kind of role for men here. I just do what the director tells me.” said the man lookin over Mary’s voluptuousness. “We are adult models too. We just posed for some life size silicone Barbie dolls. Genitalia and everything.” said Mary trying to look experienced. The male actor just looked at Mary a bit confused. Then they both laughed. Marsha was standing and trying to avoid any contact at all with anyone or anything near her. An older adult male actor walked up to Marsha. Marsha squeezed out a phoney smile trying to be polite. “Hey baby! I hope we are in the same film together. I would like to pop your throat cherry!” said the male actor crudely. “I beg your pardon sir? Sara!!” said Marsha now getting really paranoid.

“Marsha, you prised out whining frigid generator! Talk to the man. He won’t bite! Try to mingle.” said Sara still reading copies of different agreements and contracts carelessly sprawled over Taylor’s desk and cabinets. “So you are new at this aren’t you? Just follow my lead. If you are here for the audition, I can give some pointers. Lets go in the back lounge there and I will let you practice on me.” said the older actor with a coy grin. “I really don’t thinks so. I am not here for popping cherry thingies or practice of any kind. Sara, I really need to speak to you.” said Marsha politely trembling with disgust. “Can’t you see I am reading Miss Chasity belt?” said Sara still engulfed with legal literature. “Hey there, I like a woman with small breasts! Who is your friend honey? I d like to test her gag reflex.” said the older actor now zeroing in on Sara. “Are you speaking to me you limp imp?” said Sara not very impressed. “Yeah, I like an intelligent lady. Especially when I..” said the older actor cut off by Sara. “Hey, I know you? I thought you were petrified? Medusa was the last woman you tried to date right? Only problem is she turned your brain to stone and left everything else soft.” said Sara sadistically. The older actor looked at Marsha. Marsha and the older actor started to laugh. “No brains, no pain.” said Sara to herself as she resumed reading. “I am sorry for what my friend said to you.” said Marsha sincerely. “My name is Jed.” said the older man. “My name is Marsha. Don’t take this the wrong way but I am saving it for marriage.” said Marsha seriously clueless. Jed looking more confused looked at Sara and they started to laugh.

“You seem like a very nice lady. Perhaps we could go for a drink? Get to know each other?” said the younger male actor to Mary. “That sounds nice. I would like that.” said Mary mesmerized” Just then the younger male actor leaned over to kiss Mary. Mary responded and they started to smooch and make out. Sara who was pretty much done reading everything, saw Mary making out. “Mary! Come here now!” shrieked Sara startling Mary and everyone in the agency. Mary got up and fixed her bandana and walked over to Sara. “Are you kidding me? You are making out here? They probably have hidden cameras everywhere you loose floozy! Stay here with me. We are here for the audition and that is it! We are not here to give it away.” said Sara clutching Mary’s arm. “Besides, he could be your unborn son for all you know!” said Sara conning Mary. “You really thinks so?” said Mary with an unsure expression. Taylor finally returned to her desk. “You are correct Sara, here is the $150.00, $50.00 dollars each. All three of you can go to audition room 3 on the left.” said Taylor pointing the direction. Sara counted the money and put it in her bra. “It will definitely be safe in there!” said Marsha looking at Mary and Taylor. Then Marsha, Mary and Taylor started to laugh.

“Hey Marsha, Why are we in the year 2016? Were we not just in Woodstock, New York? I could of sworn, Janis was singing Bobbie McGee…” said Sara scratching her head through her pink bandana. “Sara, shhhh! I am trying to listen to Janis…wait, where the hell are we?” said Marsha looking around in a frantic nature. “Hey, those pills that guy gave us, I think his name was Timothy Geary, I think they are really starting to kick in! I do not remember coming to this place! Last thing I remember is popping that pill while Janis was shrieking between verses!” said Mary, who was hugging herself in confusion. The 3-60’s Beatniks in Granny Boots, who were dressed in organic colored stretchy tops, leather vests, bandanas and maxi-skirts, looked around through their circular, rose shaded glasses. They were then startled hearing some machinery start up around them. Looking about, they started walking cautiously on the steal grating, clutching tightly to the hand rails. Marsha noticed a large sign that said, “100 percent fully automated factory accident free year 2016.” As they proceeded slowly towards the stairs, that lead down from the steel grated platform, they all descended down cautiously to the main concrete floor that was painted with yellow boundary stripes. Yellow arrows within the borders pointed to an office door located at the rear of the large factory building. They all proceeded to follow the yellow path huddled together while clutching on to each other tightly.

Once they reached the office door, they all looked through the large window and saw a large desk with flat screen monitors and keyboards. Mary carefully grabbed the door knob on the office door and opened it slowly. As the all three poked their heads in the office, no body was there, so they all proceeded inside and closed the door. “Look at those weird typewriters guys!” said Sara flopping down in one of the office chairs. “Yeah, and look at those skinny TV’s! I never seen a TV that had color before!” said Marsha looking closely at each one. The monitors had 3d modeling programs running, showing different stages of designs and assemblies that resembled female dolls. “Those must be futuristic Barbie dolls! They show all the genitalia and everything.” said Marsha looking curiously at each monitor. “How come there are no Ken dolls? I’ll bet he is well hung !” said Mary smirking pressing different buttons on different devices on the far wall. “Mary! don’t be pressing buttons! You do not have a clue what they are for! With our luck, we will be transposed into Barbie dolls and end up Christmas presents for some bratty futuristic kid!” said Sara sitting, spinning in circles, looking bored. “Hey Sara, how do you know we are in the year 2016?” asked Mary, still messing with the different buttons on the different panels and devices. “Because there was a sign out there that said accident free year 2016. Please stop messing around with that stuff Mary!” answered Sara in a cautioning tone.

“I know what I am doing.” said Mary looking at the different panels and devices. “Yeah, Ok! Coming from the woman that lost her job at Sam’s Soda Parlor because you could not operate a cash register, operating a futuristic factory. Oh my god!” said Sara laughing while grabbing one of the brochures on the long desk. “Eat me Sara!” scowled Mary now looking at another device that looked like a shower. It read on the top label, “Real 3D Modeller Silhouette-r”. Mary got startled as the modeller silhouette device said “Step in and face forward. Arms extended and neck and shoulders straight.” As Mary stepped in and complied, the machine covered her with clear flexible PEX type plastic and shrunk tightly to her silhouette, leaving only holes for her nostrils. “The modeller will compensate for clothing and other accessories with the laser x-ray reader, only recording the nude silhouette of your body and hair.” explained the Real 3D Modeller Machine. Mary by this time was shrieking. Sara flopped down the brochure and got up. “I told you not to mess around Mary!” said Sara attempting to turn the device off. Marsha now noticing Mary shrieking started to laugh. “God Mary, only you can end up being eaten by a futuristic cloning device thing-a-ma-jig or whatever.” said Marsha giggling franticly. As Sara looked for a switch or button to turn the device off, another adjoining piece of a equipment powered up. The identification label on that device read; “Real 3D Modeller Silicone 3D Printer”. “Please wait while the resultant print model is printed off. The operation will take approximately 20 minutes.” said the Real 3D Silicone Modeller Machine. Just then the Real 3D modeller silhouette portion of the machine, released Mary. Mary, now free ran to the other side of the room.

“You see, I was right, the machine is a cloning thingy! It is cloning Mary!” said Marsha looking scared and backing up with Mary clinging tightly to her. “Boy it is a wonder you two even graduated from high school. It is a modeller. It is just making a silicone model with a 3D printing unit. It is not cloning her.” said Sara watching in amazement as the printer started to print the 3D copy of Mary. As they all watched the printer quickly assemble a silicone model of Mary, the machine was finishing Mary’s breast portion of her body. “Are you kidding me! Your tits are not that big!” said Sara sarcastically. “How would you know sunken treasure chest? Guys would have to dig to suck your nipples.” said Mary retaliating. “Yeah Sara, you have no room to talk! But definitely room up there!” defended Marsha as she giggled. “Oh go get married and have a dozen children, both of you twits! And I hope your tits hang to your knees when you are both eighty! said Sara watching the printer complete the print. “Now cooling and softening-solidifying the 3D print. The process will take 30 seconds. Please wait.” said the 3D modeller machine. Finally the glass 3D printer doors opened. “Please remove model for duplicate or new.” said the 3D modeller machine. Sara quickly removed Mary’s silicone doll and sat it down on one of the office chairs. Sara then went to the controls, typed something in and went to the silhouette-r, stepped in to activate the process again.

Mary and Marsha were examining Mary’s silicone duplicate. They were both touching and probing the doll in amazement and excitement. Mary then spread her silicone resemblance’s legs and closely examined the vaginal opening. “Wow, it is the spitting image!” commented Mary. Mary and Marsha then looked at each other and started to laugh. By this time, Sara was out of the silhouette-r. “Wait until you see mine!” said Sara with a devious look on her face. “What, you went in there? Are you crazy?” said Marsha still examining Mary’s silicone replica’s genitalia. “Don’t be a prissy Marsha. Just watch as mine prints!” said Sara excitedly. As they all watched, Sara’s replica was completing the breast portion of the replica. “Get real Sara, how did you make the machine grow you boobs like that?” asked Mary shaking her head. “Because I can read!” said Sara chuckling as the printer was completing her enhanced replica. “Oh my God, Sara, now your boyfriend will be too busy with your replica and too tired ever do you! Not that he does you much anyway ice queen.” laughed Marsha. “Look who’s talking, Marsha the eternal virgin! I think there may be mold covering your cunny!” said Sara as she removed and sat her replica on a chair next to Mary’s replica. “Ok, now lets set the machine to normal. You are next Marsha!” said Sara as she finished removing the enhancements from the Real 3D Modeller. “Not a chance! I am not going in that futuristic brain-sucking contraption thingy!” said Marsha backing into a corner. Quickly, Mary and Sara grabbed Marsha and dragged her to the silhouette-r. They held her in place until the silhouette-r secured Marsha to start the process. Marsha shrieked throughout the silhouetting process until she was finally released. “You bitches!” said Marsha in retaliation backing away again. Not too long later, the machine completed printing and all three silicone replica’s were seated next to each other on office chairs. Marsha, Sara and Mary sat in other chairs each facing their respective replica. “I wonder if this thing prints clothes?” said Marsha curiously. “You prissy prom queen!” said Sara still examining her replica’s enhanced breasts. “Yeah, may be lingerie or something sexy like! I wonder if we can take these things back in time?” said Mary in wonderment. They all looked at each other then giggled and laughed. They continued examining their replicas in amusement.

Lets hear it for the rich! Yes the rich is why we toil as such. Toil to make ends meet, toil to feed our families. Toil to pay for our homes. Pay to be entertained (brainwashed). What is my opinion of the 1 percenters? Eat them. Hunt them, shoot them, and eat them and mount their heads with expressions of exasperated feared lunacy. Yes they would be like shooting the fabled sasquatch, or getting the “big fish” out of the fishing hole, or snagging the loch ness monster. Freezing the facial expressions when you impale them with a home-made spear or one from Sears if you prefer. Or keep them and bound them to a rotisserie and roast them alive, all except their heads so you can mount them with the remaining resultant expression. What a day that would be! Or you could just make them your slaves, they cute ones anyway. They would also make great pets. Just keep them on a short or electric shock leashes. Hell, trade them with you friends!

Prized Flamed Game

If you prefer to eat your bagged 1 percenter, then they would be very tasty with tabasco sauce and/or mustard, or even baste them with your favorite or home-made barbecue sauce. Sounds delicious, my mouth is watering as I type this blog. Yum, yum! Finger licking good. The Colonel would be insanely jealous for not thinking of that first. But yet, if alive, he and his family would be a prime candidates for the rotisserie. Yes, roasting the Colonel’s great, great, great grand daughter, or son! I mean really, we do not discriminate gender or age. However, the old ones may have to marinated or stewed. That even sounds better! Boil the S.O.B.s in cauldrons like they used boil black slaves that were not obedient in the old south. Or at least the slave men that were caught screwing the 1 percenter’s wives because the masters were too busy screwing the young slave women. Or like in Nazi Germany, where almost every non-brainwashed person knows that the 1 percenters profited off that war, like they profit off every war world war or not. Though the enslavement and treatment of the Jews were more extreme and inhuman, kept the select few Jewish women and men to perform as circus animals for the SS and/or elite alike, whomever they would be, most likely from the royal family or some deranged 1 percenters visiting checking out their investments.

Seasoning of the Rich

Just keep in mind, that they represent 1 percent of the population, so even though there are not enough of them to go around, we could all share them. If you were in a room with 100 people, that 1 person in that room that represents that 1 percenter who would roast nicely on an open fire, like a pig in a spic, searing and sizzling to perfection and would feed that 99 people in that room and probably have leftovers. The leftovers could make nice sandwiches or hors d’oeuvre on crackers. But wait! instead of eating them all. we could have 1 percenter farms and breed them for meat, or slaves, and we could enter them in the fall fairs across the world, showing off your prized 1 percenter and win ribbons and trophies alike! We could keep them in stalls next to the horses. Depending on the breeding, they might even be worth almost as much as a prized thoroughbred horse! They could scrub our floors, take care of our offspring, do all the mundane time consuming chores freeing up more time for us to do the fun things in life. The possibilities are endless. We could race them as horses and bet on which prized thorough bred 1 percenter would win the race. How would you get them to run around the track? Just have them chase a solid gold carrot so you could get as many laps out of them as you wanted. The winner would be rewarded by allowing him to clean out the horse stalls. The losers would have to go back to their masters and be punished.

Whip the Money Whipped

But we would not physically abuse our 1 percenters because they would probably like that sort of punishment. No, we would punish them in the way they would most despise. Scrub that floor, clean the toilet. Peel potatoes. Clean out the barn, make my bed, wash my feet. Lick the toe jam from between my toes. But wait, we are getting back to the activities they may like. We must keep them in anguish and despair. Cut the grass with a pair of scissors. That should keep them busy for a while. Scrub the walls with a tooth brush. Shine my shoes. Wash my clothes with a wash board at the creek. Wash and squeegee the windows. Cook supper and serve it up. Instead of eating in the dining room, we will eat in the living room and use the one percenters as coffee tables, eating the last roasted 1 percenter’s left overs while watching episodes of how to train your 1 percenter to do tricks almost as good as dogs can. Yes, dogs would be higher in class. And of course, they would have to clean up the dog stool as well. In fact, they would be at the end of the food chain where most barnyard animals would be worth more and be more useful. And after supper, the 1 percenters would make great foot stools. But while they are lazing around as foot stools, we could still have them do additional things, like macramé or knitting, making doilies, mittens, sweaters or even blankets.

Jungled and the Crotched

But, that may be just a dream, however, you can bet your last 1 percenter produced covet level brain washing tool that they would do the same thing to you in a New York minute. That is why they pollute the internet with brainwashed advertising and cess spew-age in attempt to keep the masses believing we are powerless. Powerless to do anything and keep being slaves so the 1 percenters can remain “high on the hog” watching gag reels of the bungled and the botched (you and me) scurry around like circus animals trying to steal the show to be noticed. They have done “all the above” to us at one time or another. When will we awake from this proselytized cajoled slumber.